


the first light, a second chance

by MercuryWilliamson (MementoMoriPontifexMortis)



Series: Keep Your Eyes Open [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Changed ages, Childhood Friends, Clint's 13 and Natasha's 14, De-age characters, Future Relationships, Gen, Government Agencies, I played with the timeline, Implied Relationships, Mild Language, My First Work in This Fandom, Past Child Abuse, Red Room, Swearing, The Author Regrets Nothing, Violence, Younger characters, but not a lot but like mentions of it, mentions of child abuse, ooc, well can you call it de-aging?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MementoMoriPontifexMortis/pseuds/MercuryWilliamson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. When a deal goes wrong, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov are stuck together hiding from the same people, the ones who killed their mentors and since it seems that neither can back to where they came from at the moment, they decide to work together. During their time together, they learn that there is a lot of things that their mentors were hiding  and they learn about a shadowy American organization called Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinyTeddy878](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyTeddy878/gifts).



> So I got bored and I thought about what might happen if Natasha and Clint met when they were children (teens) and then this happened. It's spiraled out of control as it's part 1 of a 10 part series.
> 
> I tried to make this as well as I could but like, I have never really written teenagers, (still mainly feeling like one myself despite my age) so if it's awkward just go with it? 
> 
> ACK! I feel so weird posting this. Comments are totally appreciated.

~*~

_Rochester, NY._

_~*~_

Clint Barton is not the smartest crayon in the box, or however that saying goes but he is smart enough to know when the hell to get out of a bad situation. He's known it since he was younger and he had to dodge his father's fists and belts. And right now would be the perfect time to get out. But does Swordsman and Trick Shot listen to him? No, they tell him to go stare out a window.

Assholes.

So he does, he stares out the window with an arrow notched because if the person who's climbing their way up the building burst in here to kill everyone, he's not going down without a fight. He hasn't gotten any looks at the person – probably a girl by the flash of long red hair he saw when they were entering the building with what might be their employer – but he knows that they aren't here for talks, they can't be.

He stares out the blank window at darkness, he could've chose the other window – the one with a least a view of the river flowing between the city but this is the one with the best view of the other building that surround the four storey red bricked empty building that Swordsman had directed him towards.

“So what's the kid for?” Clint hears a lackey ask.

Swordsman grunts as Clint decides to speak up, “I'm here to shoot you if the deal goes bad.” Thinking for a second, he adds, “Oh, by the way I'm not a kid.”

There's a small round of titters coming from the lackeys but Swordsman and Trick Shot shares a look before going back to getting the deal on track. Sadly though, that's when the girl with the red willowy hair walks in with her employer. The girl is sent to stand at another side of the room while Clint slinks to hide in the shadow. Her employer ignores him as she walks towards the center of the room.

Quiet conversation falls as Clint watches the girl and the girl watches him. She, he notes, isn't like him. They have some similarities, lithe (him less so than her, as he began muscle building not that long ago) and agile looking but there they end. She's tiny looking, with a blank expression on her face. Her green eyes sparkle though, at the thought of what, Clint don't care. Her outfit is tight but not revealing which is good because she looks no older than him – Clint estimates a year older because he likes to guess upwards.

“Barton!” Trick Shot shouts and Clint nods his head an inch. He can barely make out the girl staring out at the river, a small smile playing itself on her lips. Though, he pulls his thoughts to his mentor, waiting to hear the rest of the order as the shout of his last name is not the warning word, which Clint was hoping for because his bow is almost humming to shoot someone.

“You and the girl go wait outside the door.” Swordsman orders and Clint moves from his spot in the shadow of the window, catching glimpse of something shiny outside, he pushes it off as construction equipment since they're building something a few blocks over and the metal frame can be seen. Right before Clint closes the door though, he looks up and flashes the room a smile.

“You ain't trading me for a dress are you?” Clint smirks when Trick Shot throws something and Swordsman laughs loudly. The paperweight almost hits him but Trick Shot wouldn't do so if it meant damaging him.

Swordsman grins and says, “You do something you need to be traded for?” While Trick Shot growls out, “About to.”

Normally, Swordsman threatens to trade Clint in for some kid that isn't dumb and Trick Shot's the one that tries to act “like a mentor” but on some occasions, Clint can get them to trade ideas. He doesn't do it often, mostly every now and then for a laugh but he doesn't want Trick Shot to change his mind on his usefulness. Though with the door fully closed now, Clint turns and stills when he feels a knife pressing on his throat.

“You trying to kill me?”

She flips her hair, “What you call me?” She demands in broken English because even though it sounds like a question, Clint knows that tone.

“A dress.” Clint repeats, “A girl.”

There's a silence as she takes in the words before she drops the knife to her side and he's tallying up what's different between them again. Apparently she's not American, probably Russian as that's the only Eastern European place he knows that have heavy accents. Her skin is porcelain, pretty porcelain like the china dolls that his first grade teacher, Ms. Cartwright, collected. Her eyes, though green, looks just as fiery as that brick red colour of her hair and that sparkle looks like the sparkle that Madame Oslo has whenever she predicts death.

“Why?” She tilts her head at him and Clint is confused.

“Why what?” He asks.

The girl gives him a glare, “Why trade you?”

“Oh!” Clint smirks again, “It's a game.” He explains. “Just stuff I do when we're on missions.”

“You play games?” It's not a question and it's barely spoken but Clint's ears are good and he hears her whisper to herself. “Why?”

“Because...” Clint tries to think of something to say but he can't, why does he play games? They aren't even fun games, just games to remind Swordsman and Trick Shot that he isn't a mindless tool, he may not be as smart as them but he's got a brain. “To remind them that I think.” Clint finally says.

The girl must get it because she nods and turns to face the other way, as if she's making sure no one walks into the room to disturb the deal.

That's when Clint realises that it's quiet and way too quiet at that, so he turns around to look down the corridor. “You know...” Clint begins, “It's a little too quiet.” He places an ear to the door before he's pulling out an arrow and notching it. “I'm going in.”

~*~

When she was selected for the mission, Natasha was happy because this was her first mission out of the Room. She wants to show them that they can send her on more missions, like the older girls. Of course this isn't a hard mission, just agreeing to come with Ms. Red and showing off her skills to some alternate American programme but it's a big thing. If she does it right, protects Ms. Red, shows her advance skills and manages to win over the buyer, than Ms. Red promised to send her on her own advance missions.

Which is a big thing because most girls her age doesn't get to go on advance missions due to most of them needing the girls to be prettier than stubbly early teens. Girls like her are raised to be beautiful, which is why her parents put her in the Red Room, so she can learn to be beautiful and graceful.

But none of that means anything now that Ms. Red is covered in blood, her white pristine outfit destroyed, just like Natasha's life.

The room where Ms. Red died isn't covered in blood, instead it's almost pristine besides the blood spatters on the wall. The boy with the arrows is checking on his fallen comrades when Natasha shakes herself out of shock. She had one mission! And she failed it!

“Damn!” She hears the boy with arrows scream when he checks for pulses. He must not realise that all this blood means they have been dead. “Come on, Trick Shot! Swordsman! Wake up!”

“They are dead.” Natasha spits coldly, her insides twisting in a way she doesn't let show. The programme leaders are going to be so mad at her.

The boy turns to her, sharply, “I can see!” He shouts, throwing his hands up, “I can fucking see that!”

Natasha, in a rare and bad moment, let's her anger control her actions and before she knows it, she and he is twisting in battle. She punches left, he grabs and thrusts forwards with his right hand. Natasha catches him and uses her knee to hit him in the side, but before she can, he's twisting out of her grasp like one of the girls in the Room and notching an arrow. She jumps backwards and turns into a small handstand before jumping forward. The fiery haired girl wants nothing more than to snap his neck with her new move but she's yet to perfect it, even Ms. Red said not to do it at the performance.

Right before she attacks though, the boy is holding up his hand and turning towards the window. He's eyes, hawkishly so, searches the sky above them before his notched arrow flies through the glass and he's grabbing her and throwing his body over hers. Natasha is about to argue but then there's gunfire and she holds her position.

“How's your climbing?” The boy asks, gently. His eyes turn about, making note of everything in the room, something that even she, the soon to be, infamous Black Widow can't do. She knows her surroundings, or well, she used to before this fiasco but she can't analyze a room like he.

“I am good.” She mutters, “Good enough.”

The boy smirks at her, “Follow me then.” And he makes his way forward towards a low lying vent and then he's yanking the cover off and motioning her to go.

“You go.” She says, “I follow.”

He sighs at her, “Remind me when we get out of here to wring your neck for buggin' me.” Then he shimmies downwards and Natasha is following him with slight precaution because he might be apart of the whole reason Ms. Red is dead and his compatriots might not be his actually compatriots.

Once they are out, in the not-so dirty alleyway right next to the water, Natasha pauses to catch her breath. The river brings a cold mist in what Natasha thinks is a way to remind her that this is not a dream and she's lost. The boy with the arrows is checking his quiver when he asks, “Did you know?”

“Know?” Natasha bites her lip, “Know that programme manager will die?” Shaking her head, she answers. She would never had joined the mission if she had known Ms. Red would die.

Ms. Red had been her programme manager since Natasha had joined the Red Room, taught her everything from ballet to how to poison people and Natasha, in what can only be called childish sentimentality, had grown to love and care for her – hoping that Ms. Red felt the same. Twisting her head around to take in the alley, Natasha sighs, she can't think about the Red Room right then, nor the main programme manager else it brought up feelings that she had supposedly squashed during training. She had one more year to get over these pesky things else they'd set back the Black Widow initiative back and she'd be re=evaluated. She didn't want to be re-evaluated.

The boy nods and he looks around before motioning her forward, they make it to the edge of the alleyway before they hear a large group of people making their way through the building they were just in. Natasha jumps forward and grabs his hand, letting her training take over, they would need a place to stay and if she had any say about it, it wouldn't be on the street. Looking up, Natasha notices that they can use the crowd, the lights and the noise to get away; the crowd especially heavy for some reason on this day, the lights flashing and twinkling like diamonds and the noise of everything blocked out much of the conversation around her, which meant that it was all too perfect to run in.

“Weapons go.” She says urgently as they make their way down the street in the opposite direction, the boy though seems to be looking back every two minutes to make sure they aren't followed. They make it to another empty building – how many does this city have? – before Natasha repeats herself, “Weapons go.”

“What?”

Motioning to his bow and quiver she tries to remember her English classes, which was far and few in between, finally she speaks, rather haltingly, “You must hide your bow.”

He nods, “Okay,” and then he's snaking forward and moving towards one of the many boxes and Natasha learns that it is not an empty building she chose but a warehouse full of bags, which the boy uses to hide his weaponry. He grabs the handle on one bags and then he stops.

“What'cha called?” He asks, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” Natasha asks, her eyebrows raised. The rest of her face stayed schooled though, not letting him know that she can't fully understand him.

“Umm, what's your name?” He asks again, “What did they call you and such.”

“The Black Widow,” She begins, “Natasha Romanova.”

“Nice ta meet ya.” He says, holding out a hand, “Clint Barton, aka The Amazing Hawkeye.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has a mention of sex and implied child sex abuse -- nothing that happened directly to Natasha or Clint but it's implied and it's there so I want to warn. 
> 
> WARNING: IMPLIED CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE!

~*~

When they make it out of the warehouse, Natasha decides they need a place to stay. Clint suggests the car that Swordsman had but she shoots that down as she's positive that the people that hunted down their mentors will know about the car. Clint nods before saying that Trick Shot handed him a key for a post box that had money in it. Natasha looks at him with shock before nodding, they'll get that tomorrow, for now though, they'll just get some money from some strangers. 

He laughs but nods because she's got the right idea. Clint'll follow her along because he, himself hasn't though of a new idea. His bagged bow stays at his side, ever inconspicuous as it can be. 

“We need new clothes.” He says to her as they make their way through the crowds, grabbing wallets and change purses easily. Natasha has her hand through some ladies pocket book before she puts the money back and adds the money they've already collected. 

“You are right.” She says, her accent fading. Well now this must be apart of her training. Turning to look around, she spots a store. “We go there.” On their way, they slip their hands through a few more pockets, just for some extra change for food. 

The store that Natasha chose has clothing. Natasha chooses a fancy dress shirt with blue lace trimmings and a black pencil skirt. Clint admits that she looks downright sexy in that. They find it after ten minutes of going through the women selection. It is the only thing that Natasha didn't say 'eugh' at, which is amazing because Clint thought that Russians spies were supposed to be scary and less picky. 

She goes to the dressing room with the skirt and a pink shirt and two minutes later is calling Clint to trade the shirt for something less gross feeling. Clint comes back with the blue lace shirt. 

“Can I get one size smaller?” She asks lightly through the crack in the small room. She hates looking towards the mirror because all she can do is see the girl that was supposed to become Black Widow, but she needs to look like an adult, for people to see her as such. The blue lace shirt that Clint brought her is too frumpy but if it was smaller than she might be able to go with it. 

“Give me a second.” Clint answers back and she hears him walk off out of the room, even though he isn't supposed to be in there anyway. She heard one of the young ladies tell Clint that when she first called him in here but he waved her off, saying she was his sister and that he needed to stay with her at all cost, in case she was to have a panic attack. 

Something is thrusted over the little door, “Here,” Clint announces, “It's the only other one I could find.” 

“Thank you.” The shirt that she had on is quickly ripped off of her before Natasha slips the smaller one on, it fitting not too snugly against her chest. She's not the biggest cup but she is considerable and the shirt fits perfectly so it makes her look like an adult. 

Natasha looks through the change purse they have, inside the old owner's id shined towards Natasha reminding her that she had forgotten the fact that her fake id that Ms. Red carried around was still in the box at the bank place. She curses herself for not demanding to carry it like most other girls would before calming herself. Natasha needed to breathe, not freak out over something small. 

Putting on her other clothing, she folds the clothing she plans to buy all while planning to steal something. “Clint?” She inquires. 

“Yeah, Tasha?” He says the nickname with such familiarity it surprises her for a minute. 

“Um, have you found anything?” 

He shakes his head, knowing she wouldn't be able to see him, “Nope, too busy helpin' you.” 

“Then let's just finish up here and we can go look at the men's section.” She retorts, opening the door to look into his face. He's got that annoying boyish smile on his face and Natasha wants to smack it off. 

“Following you my queen,” He mocks bow before she stomps away. If they're going to play parts then she's going to be like an actress on a stage. 

In the men's section is dress clothing that Clint's never thought about owning before. He tells this to Natasha who looks at him like he's the gum on her shoes. It's not his fault he's never had the opportunity to own clothing like this. “Let's try this on.” She hands him a light blue dress shirt. She's about to go looking for pants for him but he stops her. 

“I can do that.” He tells her and she draws her hand away from his with a gentle nod of her head. He looks through the pant selection, finally deciding on a plain pair of slacks. He should look older in this. 

Natasha doesn't like the outfit on him, though, because when he shows her it in the men's dressing room, she makes the 'eugh' face and goes off to find a different shirt. She returns with three different ones; a light pink (she swears it's called salmon), a summer green – whatever that is – and a purple one. He tries the salmon one on first, not even leaving to show her because he doesn't like it himself. The summer green just looks like puce green on him and the purple one... 

well Clint likes that one. 

He shows it to Natasha who grunts at him. Apparently she's used up all her words because it's a while before he hears her speak again. She pays for it with their stolen money, pulling out the light pink pocket book with ease as if she's done it a thousand times before. The lady at the front glares at them, they did break like all the rules, before taking the money and bagging their items. 

On their way out, Clint notices a watch that would look perfect with his outfit, he goes up to the glass and asks to see it, during which he plans for a small distraction in the form of the lady in the front screaming about the mess they left in the dressing rooms. The lady at the glass turns away for just a second but it's enough for him to switch out a good watch with one of the watches from the discount area. Slipping away, he thanks the lady softly, her not even noticing him leaving. 

“Did you have to take that?” Natasha asks, and he snorts. 

“You stole at least a hundred in make up and jewelry.” 

Her eyebrow lifts up, “I'm a girl, I need this stuff.” 

Clint scoffs, “Yeah, and I needed a new watch.” 

~*~

One thing Clint hates is not having his bow in his hand, it's like having lost an extra arm or something but he can't think about that because he's got to be faking he's older than he really is. Natasha's plan consists of them lying to adults to get into a hotel, and it's not hard, with enough make up and confidence anyone can look older, more successful and such. Her plan is most likely to succeed, her using her good looks to get them further while he uses blunt force, he tells her this too and it seems like she preens at the thought of being called pretty. Clint takes pride in himself when it proves he's right and her plan works. 

“So,” Clint begins as they make their way to the hotel room they bought, “Where'd you learn to pick pocket?” She had made off with the most amount of stolen money, her hands threading through people without them knowing so. 

“It is something taught.” Natasha shrugs, “You are pretty good yourself.” 

“Thanks.” He says, “Barney taught me.” 

Natasha tilts her head, “Barney?” Pausing she tries to think of the men early, “Where one them Barney?” She asks. 

Shaking his head, Clint answers, “No, Barney's my brother. When we were younger he'd teach me a whole bunch of things, said they were things I'd need to know to survive.” 

“Oh.” 

The hotel room isn't something too fancy, just two beds, a desk and a bedside table. Natasha grabs the bed closest to the bathroom while Clint quickly makes his way to the bed near the window. He doesn't trust her. Well, he trusts her with a small degree, she too lost a mentor today but she's Russian and she's like him, bred to be dangerous. You aren't supposed to trust them who is like you. Barney always said that. 

“I am bathing.” She says, rushing off the to bathroom. “I will be out soon.” 

Once the water starts, Clint runs to the phone about to call Barney before he realises he can't. Barney doesn't have a phone near him and if he calls then old man Carson will learn what Clint's been doing with Swordsman and Trick Shot – or worse the old man will get worried about him. 

“I can't go back.” Clint decides, he has nothing there for him anymore. With Jacques and Buck out of the way, he's got no one to mentor him and besides, Barney might believe that Clint did something to them because why else would Clint be returning back alone. He might miss his brother but he can't go back. Also, what if the people who killed is mentors are out looking for him, he wouldn't be able to go back and put people in harm. 

“I have decided that too.” Natasha's voice spooks him out of his reverie. Looking up he notices the saddened look on her face. “I have decided that the Room must progress without me.” 

“Why?” 

Natasha looks down at the ground, “It is not safe to fail mission. No girl has ever stayed. Ms. Red was important programme lady and I failed my mission.” Her English was breaking down but she was too wrapped up in her own emotions. “I do not want to die.” 

“Then stay with me.” Clint says and she looks up at him. 

“What?” 

Clint laughs, “It's simple. We're both wanted. We're both the same age, probably, and we're both trained so why not stay together. Hunt down those who killed our mentors, and then we can go back. I mean right?” 

Nodding, Natasha thinks it over, he might be right. 

~*~

Her stomach rumbles at half past nine, halfway through the television show that Clint put on to have as background sound. It's some stupid crime show that she's never heard of but apparently Clint likes it enough to keep the channel unchanged. “Hungry, Romanov?” He asks in what can only be described as a teasing tone. 

Natasha nods, “A little.” 

Clint bends down and reaches to the bottom of the bedside table for the large book that laid there. “Pizza or Chinese?” He asks, “Because those are the only delivery places here.” 

“No room service?” She questions, anything that could make them stop spending too much money. They had only about four hundred left, after their little shopping spree and the motel isn't cheap, despite it not being the best. 

Clint screws up his face before getting up and checking around the room, “No, sorry.” He answers after a minute of checking, “If there is then there isn't a menu anywhere.” 

“Pizza.” She sighs, “It is better than the fake Chinese food.” 

Clint laughs, “Yeah, I know. Me and Swordsman once went to Asia and I had some nice dumplin' and rice over there and comin' back over here to the fake food isn't as fun. Though some of the more real places taste delicious.” 

“'Real places'?” She repeats with surprise in her tone. 

Nodding, he explains, “Yeah, old man Carson took me and Barney to this nice place in New York after our first time out in the lime light. Usually we were out in the back but it was my first time as Hawkeye and my brother's first time as stage hand to the tigers.” Thinking back on that fun trip to the Chinese food, stopping and buying ice cream brought a wide smile to his face, “The Chinese there tasted so good.”

“You share information,” Natasha mutters, “like we were told to never.” 

Clint pauses in his movements, she's right. He's sharing all the information that he was told not to. Swordsman smack the rule into him, do not give out information to the enemies. He doesn't speak to her, trying to run all the options through his mind. He can't tell her to just forget what he said, can he? 

“It is not bad thing!” Natasha hurries to say, “I just meant, you are very open.” She's got the ghost of a smile on her face, “It is re- re- ressuring.” 

“Reassuring.” Clint corrects, “And thanks.” 

“One time Ms. Red took me out for training exercise. It was in English speaking country, not here but else where. I fail.” Natasha admits quietly after a minute, “One of the reasons I do not go on many missions is my English is not good. Other languages I am great at, but English not so much.” 

“Why is that?” Clint asks, sitting down, pizza menus forgotten. “I mean you seem to be really smart but English – that's something you don't get?” 

“Your language has many pitfalls – things that do not make sense.” Natasha answers, “Like verb tenses and pronunciation. I have just started English as another language.” 

“Newbie.” Clint teases her. 

Natasha throws him one of her weaker glares before saying, “Just order.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her off before looking at the menu, trying to decide what he wants. Pepperoni pizza sounds fine to him but what about Natasha, what if she was a vegetarian. “What do you want?” 

“Pepperoni.” 

That answers that, Clint decides before he grabs the phone off the hook and began dialing. He orders a large pepperoni pizza with bread sticks and hot wings, because he doesn't want to have to call for more food later when it proved that one of them would get really hungry. 

“So, what do you want to do while we wait?” He questions her, hanging up the phone, “Because we've got 37 minutes to wait.” 

“Change the channel.” She says, her eyes unmoving from the crime show. Turning to face the black television, Clint frowns, something about it is distressing her. 

“Natasha, what is it?” He asks, moving closer to her. 

Still she repeats what she said, “Change the channel.” Clint having already began reaching for the remote does so with little flair. He changes it until he comes across some stupid bright cartoon then he places the remote back down on the bed and turns to face his companion. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I do not like what they were discussing.” Natasha answers stiffly. 

“Sex?” 

“Do not say it so blase!” She yells and Clint jumps backward at her raising her voice. She takes a breath to calm herself, “It is not something to just rattle off.” 

Clint doesn't move or say anything while she shakes on the bed. He wants to know what about sex scares her but he doesn't want the girl getting mad at him. The cartoon on the background plays it's annoying theme music, cutting through the part where the silence was awkward. “I... I'm sorry.” Clint murmurs after a minute. “I didn't know.” 

Natasha takes in her fallen partner, his eyes cast downward made her body ache to forgive him but she can't at the moment. While true he didn't know it still hurt her and she wants to run farther than she's ever run before. The analog clock in the background ticks and tocks away while the room waits for her answer. Or for her to scream at him again. 

“It is okay.” She utters, tonelessly. He doesn't understand her personal demons with that subject. 

“I mean Barney protected me from people that wanted little boys but I don't think someone as pretty as you had someone to do that, 'specially since it seems to be like the objective of that room of yours to teach girls to do that with their bodies.” Clint rambles, “Not that you don't have the right to do what you want with your body, Madame Oslo's smacked me for intoning or something that girls can't do what they want with their bodies.” 

“Hawkeye.” Natasha interrupts but he doesn't hear her, because he continues on with his words. 

“Just, I know sometimes that people don't like things like sex to be mentioned because they've had bad experiences with it, one of the pretty trapeze ladies told me that when she was teaching me.” 

“Barton!” Natasha tries again to get his attention. 

“And I mean,” He continues as if he didn't hear her, “I even had an almost bad experience, one time Barn didn't get to me quick enough and some guy was about to take me thankfully I was learning to fight and was able to get way from him and --” 

“Clint!” She throws a pillow at his head, “Will you pay attention to me!” 

“Sorry!” He apologizes again. 

Grabbing her second pillow, she smiles, “It was not your fault. I've yet to be trained like the other girls so I've not had any sexual experience.” 

“Oh.” 

“You were right, girls like me are trained to use our bodies to get what we want. The training to become Black Widow would've started next year, when I became 15.” Natasha adds, “The reason I did not like the show was because of how they were showing it. Like sex is a bad thing.” 

“...Oh...” 

Laughing, Natasha says, “Is that the only thing you can say?” 

“Sorry.” Clint mutters again, “I just... I'm sorry.” 

“You did not know.” She explains, “I should be the one sorry, for snapping at you.”

The phone rings, interrupting them. “Hello.” Natasha says, answering it. She's quiet as the person on the other end tells her that their food arrived and the delivery man should be up within a minute. “Yes, thank you.” She hangs up the phone, telling Clint what the man on the other end said. 

Getting up from the floor, Clint held his hand out. “I need $37.46.” He flicks at a piece of dust on his shirt when they hear a knock and Natasha hands him the pink checkered pocket book. 

“Make sure we have napkins.” She says, looking back towards the cartoon. “Is it alright if I change channel?” 

Nodding Clint makes his way to the door and opens it. “Hey.” He says to the guy totally older than him. 

“Total is 37.46.” The delivery man says, looking at the receipt on the box. In the background, Clint hears Natasha change the channel to a news channel. 

“Clint!” She calls for him and Clint's quickly handing the money to the man, taking the boxes and rushing back to the room. She's pointing towards the television. 

_“In other news today, what might be a gang shooting happened downtown on main street.”_ The news lady spoke, _“Three victims have been confirmed, though no identities have been released. The owner of the building, Mr. Wynder, has spoken out about it.”_

A stout man appears on the screen, _“I never even knew anyone was inside. I've secured that building the best I can so I would have people sneaking in but I guess this goes to show you that you can't stop some people. Private property means nothing.”_

“Natasha.” Clint murmurs before she holds her hand up. 

_“Government officials have reported that there might be more suspects who walked away from it.”_ The lady says, _“And they ask that anyone who might know something about this crime please come forward.”_

“What do we do?” Clint asks, placing the food on her bed. He climbed on the sheets, crossing his legs and facing her. 

“Government.” Natasha whispers, “It was government.” 

“What?” 

She turns to him, fear in her eyes. “Ms. Red says – said there was government men who wants the Room to be closed. She always said that it was one reason that most girls never went to America. Too dangerous.” Natasha sounds frightened. “Ms. Red said that girls who've been to America never come back because government shuts them down.” 

“So it's the government that killed our mentors?” Shaking his head, Clint responds, “Can't be. They don't know about Trick Shot being part of this and he's the one that set this whole thing up.” 

Natasha shakes her own head, “Not legal government. They are covert, like us.” 

“You mean....” Clint tapers off. A covert alphabet government agency. 

“Spies.” Natasha concludes. “Covert agencies.” 

“What do we do now?” 

She shrugs before opening the pizza box, “Don't know.” She grabs a slice with ease and begins eating while Clint begins thinking. He's not the smartest but he's good at problem solving. 

And right now, they were in a big problem.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rochester is my hometown, my love so any descriptions are (should be) good. I call certain distances short because I'm a walker and a bus taker so walking like three miles isn't that bad for me. I don't think I made any of them walk three miles, at most a few blocks to a mile and a half.

~*~  
Chapter Three  
~*~

The clock hit twelve in the night when Natasha jolts upwards, sweating. She looks around the unfamiliar room until it hit her what had happened earlier. Ms. Red was murdered, they figured out that some covert agency killed them and is now probably trying to kill them and they promised to stay together until they managed to defeat them. Natasha pushes the bed sheets back and gets up to go to the bathroom. Turning on the water, she splashes her face and then sighs as she dries her face with a towel. As much fun as this is, she wishes that this was a training mission because then it meant that she could go back. 

“Tasha?” Clint's voice floats through the open bathroom door. Looking up, she notices two things in the mirror. One, Clint is standing behind her and she never even heard him get up. Two, she's crying. Lifting a hand to her face, Natasha ghosts over the tear tracks. 

“I am fine.” she says with a certainty that she doesn't feel. Clint nods but doesn't say anything as he looks her over than turns to go back to bed. Natasha waits a few minutes, hoping that Clint sleeps quickly before wiping her face with the white fluffy towel and going back. She doesn't turn off the lights, hoping that it will chase any bad dreams away. Natasha climbs up on the chair at the desk. 

“What age did you start getting trained?” Clint asks through the darkness. She curses his ability to stay up. 

“I began early. I was five when my parents sent me to the room.” Sighing, she adds, “Two years later, there was a fire at my home and my family passed.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“You say that too much.” Natasha growls, “Who taught you that?” 

“I got trained when I was eight. Me and Barney ran from foster care to the carnival; our parents dead in a ditch two years earlier, no other family members, parents didn't have any friends to take us in, and the carnival sounded fin. We were only supposed to help around, you know keep things ready for those who preformed.” Clint explains, ignoring her question.. “I picked up the bow and Trick Shot called me a natural. Then Swordsman began training me, and I began doing sets on the stage, people paid to come see me shoot.” 

“The room began my training early, I began extra curricular actives earlier than most other girls. I got pushed up a level.” 

“The room sounds like a school.” Clint mutters.

Natasha shrugs, grabbing a cold slice of pizza. “It is in a way.” She answers, “We get basic schooling; math, reading, writing, science, but also we get self defense, anti-interrogation training, seduction lessons for the older girls and other classes.” 

“What grade are you in?” 

“Grade?” Natasha frowns, “Oh, you mean, level. I am level nine.” 

“Wow.” 

“Yes, it is better than most girls my age.” Natasha smirks, “I am ahead.” 

The room goes quiet after that and Natasha thinks that Clint has fallen back to sleep. Sitting in the dark, the young girl finishes her cold pizza, thinking about her current predicament. If Natasha was to go back to the Room after killing those who killed Ms. Red, would she be welcomed back? Nothing like this has ever happened since she was there, she had never heard of girls being allowed to stay if they failed a mission, hell, even failing a training mission was bad. 

“Tasha?” She hears him asks, turning towards him she sees he's sat up. 

“Yes?” 

There's a pause when he doesn't say anything, too busy on trying to figure out how to word what he wants to say. He can't just come out and ask it, his first foster mother threatened to toss him outside for doing so and Clint doesn't want to get on her bad side. “I just wanted to know..” He begins, “if you were older or younger than me.” 

“I am fourteen.” She answers, “How old are you?” 

“Thirteen.”

Smiling, she says, “Then I'm older, which means you should listen to me.” 

He chuckles but doesn't say anything too busy counting up another victory in age guessing again. He's always liked guessing people's age because he could usually get it within a few years, too many times did his spend time with Andre – who manned the weight and age guess booth. 

“Go to sleep.” She says, “We need to be up and ready for tomorrow.” 

Nodding, Clint lays back down, watching from the corner of his eye her walking back to bed and doing the same. “Good night, Tasha.” He says and she mumbles her response of, “Good night.” 

~*~ 

Clint wakes first, right when the sun is beginning to rise over the clouds that have set for today. He throws off the clothing he slept in, his own because Natasha was worried about the good clothing wrinkling, and jumps into the shower. He's toweling off when he hears Natasha stirring from the other room. He wraps the towel around his waist over his underwear before walking to the bathroom door. “Hey, Tasha?” He says gently, in case she was just moving about and not really waking up. 

He gets no answer so he walks further into the room, on alert in case she's not all her. “Are you up?” he asks, finally getting a moan in answer. A blush rises up his face, he's only heard girls moaning when one of the trapeze ladies had a boyfriend from town and they made out every where. Clint was 10 when that happened and old man Carson decided that he would sit and explain sex to Clint. Barney had done the same thing at the orphanage out of fear of pedophiles. Both talks left Clint unable to do anything but blush. 

“I'm up.” She says, stretching to the sky, “Are you done with the bathroom?” 

Clint nods his response, making his way over the short distance to the clothing area. He grabs the undershirt he washed at the small laundry area in the motel last night and puts it on because according to Natasha nobody wears a business shirt without an undershirt. He holds onto the purple button up shirt while he stares at the curtains. Part of him wants to open it, let the fresh air in but another part, the more sensible part tells him that he can't; it's too dangerous. Clint pushes down the urge and finishes getting ready, turning when he hears the bathroom door open. 

“How do I look?” Natasha asks, holding her hands at her side. She's trained like this before, made herself up so she looks older, it's part of the curriculum at the Room but right now, actually putting it in action scared her. Her first mission had gone down and now here she was working with another kid like her to take down a government agency. 

Clint gapes at her, blinking rapidly. She had worn the outfit yesterday but yesterday she didn't put on makeup and jewelry; which allowed her to look at least four years her senior. Standing straight her body stuck out at all the right curves, drawing his eyes to the low cut of the shirt. Her eyes covered in a smokey brown that brought heavy attention to the sparkling green and her lips, full and pink, made Clint want to bite his lip. She looked like a doll, a fragile, harmless doll but he knew better, she was dangerous and this was just perfect! No one would suspect a thing! 

“You look beautiful.” He says, smiling. Natasha ducks her head down and thanks him. 

“You look good too.” She says, scrutinizing him lightly, “Very man like.” 

He does another mock bow as his thank you before his packing their original clothing away in the bag with his bow. “Do you carry weapons?” He asks, realising that he hasn't seen her with a weapon since this started. 

“Normally, yes, but Ms. Red kept hold on them.” She replies, biting the end of her thumb, “I know where she kept them but...”I

“But what?” 

Sighing she explains, “I am not sure it is safe to get them. They were in a security box, I have the key for it, Ms. Red said that it was my responsibility to keep it safe. Though with this agency on us, I am not sure if it is safe.” 

“We don't know they're after us.” Clint points out, “They could think they're looking for someone else, so we can go get them without arousing suspicion.” 

Natasha chews on her thumb for a minute more before nodding, agreeing with Clint. Even if this agency knew what they looked like, it wouldn't matter. She had only two more years before she'd be sent out on mission, most of her training complete; only thing that needed to be done was the seduction training but she was still lethal without it. “Then lets go.” 

With that they headed out of the hotel room, carefully inspecting to make sure that they avoided any cameras. It wouldn't do them any good to be caught on tape. Natasha's heels hit the ground with a clack when they jumped off the second floor fire escape. Clint falls right beside her in a crouch, eyes searching the empty alleyway. 

“Follow me.” Natasha says, straightening up her back and walking with confidence. Clint follows, shoulders back, straight-faced and poised to fight if need to. They walk through the crowds, never coming in contact with anyone unless one of them felt like picking a pocket. Natasha smiles at the men who look at her like she's legal and Clint smirks at the women who do the same. They make it to the post office where Trick Shot hid the money when they start making out more black cars then normal. Clint looks towards Natasha who nods her head and they separate, each going in a different direction. 

~*~

When Leana Bryant was given the job to look for the notorious Black Widow – the person who lit the Afghan hospital on fire three years ago and killed a little girl and did something very classified in South America – she never thought that the director would add on looking for Hawkeye – another assassin with a long history; most of it involved taking impossible shots and killing high end business men. Her partner, the head agent for the case of Hawkeye, gave her no information on what she was looking out for besides a person carrying a bow. 

“For three years, Hawkeye has terrorized us.” Her partner points out every chance he gets, “Destroying good men, just last month he killed a noble peace prize official.” And as bad as Leana feels for him, she's got her own assassin to catch. 

Black widow is a notoriously cruel woman, killing anyone just to prove herself to the organization called Red Room. Bryant has read all the information that her people has gotten on the Room but it's not a lot. It's all top secret. Bryant hasn't even truly seen the woman, only knowing that she appeared with her specialized calling card; one red hair and a card with a kiss. Director Fury calls girls like her specialized assassins, Bryant calls them paid serial killers. 

“Any new information, Agent Bryant?” Director Fury asks, and Bryant holds back the desire to shout that it's hopeless. 

“No sir.” She says instead, “We got the three from the meeting early but there hasn't been a nary of a sight of Black Widow or Hawkeye. If they were being brought together to work on something then they're in the wind.” 

Fury sighs and Bryant steadies herself for his next words, “Agent Bryant I don't have to tell you what will happen if these two get together do I?” He questions. 

“No sir.” 

“Then get Bonnie and Clyde off the street before more people end up dead.” He snaps at her, “Because if they work together then this organization is condemned.” 

“Yes sir.” He cuts off the comm link and Leana is left to her thoughts. She knows that 'Bonnie and Clyde' as Director Fury has named them, is still in the city, but she can't find where. No leads anywhere, they couldn't find even a hair from either of the assassins! 

“Bryant!” Her partner, Agent Jim Matthews, says urgently through the comm link. “I spot something suspicious.” 

Bryant snaps to attention, looking around the post office, she can't see anything out of the ordinary. “You're going to have to point me in the right direction.” She mutters into the comm link. Static whispers in her ear before she feels like she needs to get out of there. “Matthews!?” She questions through the link, she rushes out of the post office, running to the car. 

Bryant feels like screaming but instead she kept her calm before pressing the button on the communicator to talk to Director Fury. “Sir.” She says, calmly when she gets him. 

“What?” 

“Agent Matthews is dead.” She explains, “Arrow to the eye.” Turning, she looks back at her fallen comrade. “I request back up.” 

She hears Fury groan in annoyance before saying, “Request granted.” 

“Thank you sir.” 

Leana is about to press the disconnect button when Fury speaks once more, “Agent Bryant, take down the bastards. Matthews was a good man, he didn't deserve to die like that.” She nods her head once before calling in the clean up crew. 

“Mission report?” She asks the rest of her agents, still only getting static. They were all cut off or dead, either way the mission was scrapped until the back up came. Deciding to risk it, Leana walks back into the post office, right back to where she was waiting at. She notices a white card on the seat she was at and knowing her mark it was a simple kiss card. 

“Bitch!” She stomps her feet and brings up a hand to her face. Damn the Black Widow and damn the Red Room. 

~*~

Clint watches the agents from the other building across from the post office. Natasha walks in, raising slight attention from older men and Clint stops himself from shooting them. Clint does shoot few of the men who killed his mentors, but that's because they were sniffing to close to Natasha. He sees Natasha take out three guys in the alleyway near him and he's in awe at her skills; if they get some time down, he plans to ask her to continue his training that Swordsman was doing. 

Still, he climbs down the fire escape and makes his way to their planned meet up, the bank on Main and South Ave, off of Clinton Square. The walk there was the short plus Natasha says the security box where Ms. Red hid her weapons was hidden somewhere around there. Though before he starts walking, Clint takes a look at the men that they took down; he checks each of the pockets, grabbing whatever money they had and the ID wallet of one of them. 

“Clint?” Natasha asks while she waits. She's got a walkie-talkie that they bought from a store in one hand and a small briefcase containing the money that was hidden in the post office in the other. Clint was wrong, the money wasn't hidden in the post box, no, the post box had directions that led to it; right to where a women of medium height was sitting. The woman who was sitting right where the money was had flashed a government ID at all who asked her something, and before she knew it, Natasha had left her Red Room calling card once she had left after too many minutes of sitting there before Natasha had grabbed it quickly and bolted with the money. “Where are you?” She wonders. 

“Behind you, at your 6.” The walkie-talkie jumps to life. “I've got the box where Ms. Red hid your stuff.” He adds. 

Natasha turns until she catches his eyes, nodding once before they begin the secondary trek back on the main street, from there they would turn east and walk until they met at the small park they saw on their walk. While she walks, she looks out for anymore of those black cars that hold those agents. It's not like they're a real danger, she was able to take them down easily but the more of them, the less likely her and Hawkeye are going to get out of the state alive. 

Wait.. when did she want to start leaving the state with Barton? 

_When you realised you can't go home._ The little voice in the back of her head says. She ignores it yet she knows in her heart that it's right. No matter what they do they won't be able to go back home, Barton doesn't even have a home and she can't bring him back to the Red Room, they would take the smiles and smirks; the sarcastic wit from him and teach him to be cruel, heartless and broken. 

Just like they taught everyone. Including her. 

“Barton...” She says in the walkie-talkie. “Why do you name me 'Tasha;?” 

A crackle then Barton's voice is floating through, “'Cause you act like a Tasha to me, or I can call you Nat.” He's giving her an option. 

“Either is fine.” She mutters, “How far out are you?” 

“A minute from your location.” He pauses, “God we sound like secret agents!” 

Natasha laughs lightly, “We do.” She agrees. 'and maybe,' she adds silently, 'we can stay sounding like secret agents together.' 

Clint feels bad because he wants to stay. He wants to stay with Natasha but he already promised her that he'd help her get back home. Together, he thinks, they'd be an awesome team but Natasha wants to go back to the Red Room. Maybe he can go back with her? But right now that's not important as their mission is to find out who killed their mentors. All the clues they got lead to the people in the black cars but the ID wallet that Clint snatched from one of the dead bodies says nothing. No organization name or anything. 

“Tasha?” Clint asks, walkie-talkie up to his mouth, “What's the Red Room like?” 

Silence fills the air, his tree spot hidden from the rest of humanity a few feet from where Natasha sits on the long stone bench surrounding some white pole with strings, so he watches her as she fiddles with the device. Eventually though, she brings it up to her face and says, “It is my home.” 

“Well yeah,” Clint feels like adding 'duh' but doubts she's savvy enough to understand it. “But what's it like? Is it nice there?” 

Another few minutes of silence passes and then she's repeating the process from before, “It is nice... not the best but nice.” Another pause, “There are other girls and some boys but they do not interact with the girls. They are trained to be security not operatives like me. We learn to...” 

“You learn to what?” 

“Look at my left side...” She hisses through the walkie-talkie, “There are more black cars!” 

He looks and she's right. The black cars from before are back. Each one a dark colour, making headway through the traffic and Clint can see the people inside. It's more of those suits. All of them dressed in gray black colours and staring forward. He catches the eye of one of the men, who definitely can't see him but the stare feels like the other man can and Clint has to catch himself before he falls from the tree branch. 

“Who are they?” Clint murmurs, pushing forward on the branch until he was lying on his stomach. “And why are there so many?” 

“I do not know but I have a feeling that they are here for us.” Natasha replies, “And that this is going to get very very messy.” 


	4. Chapter 4

~*~  
Chapter Four  
~*~

“So go over what we do know?” Natasha asks, Chinese box in her hand. She and Clint has been going over what they had learned from the people they had taken down, plus the small run in with the man with shades. He had stared at them like they were insects before asking them to vacate the area. Normally Natasha would've taken him down – he was apart of that group that ruined her life but Clint had grabbed onto her and acted like her little brother. 

“That apparently the organizations initials are S, H, I, E, L, D.” Clint answers, sighing for the tenth time, “I spotted it on Mr. Shade's identification wallet. I don't know of any organization with those letters.” 

“Neither do I.” Natasha mumbles, “So where does that lead us?” 

“Going after the group here and taking one to ask some questions?” Clint wonders and Natasha frowns. That's a plan but not the best. 

“We will put that as plan 10.” She retorts, “There are many many more agents then we want if they catch sight of us...” She trails off. 

“Yeah, yeah” Clint waves at her, “I know but we've got like three choices and with your English flipping between good and 'I am obviously Russian' we ain't got that much time.” 

Natasha snorts, “You are flipping between good and hick.” She huffs and he flashes a smile at her. 

“Well shucks, colour me pink and call me a hog!” He teases before getting serious, “Our colours are showing and we've only been here for a day. What we should do – what Trick Shot would do is lay low for a while, solve the problems then make a big show of bringing them down.” Clint closes his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. “If Trick Shot – or hell even Swordsman – were here, they'd know what to do!” 

Natasha sighs with him, shaking her head at his words. Even either of their mentors were here they'd have no problems because without a doubt, their mentors would hightail it out of this mess. She'd be nestled safely on some plane headed back to the Room and Clint'd be halfway back to wherever he came from. “Clint.” She starts, “What would you do?” 

Clint stills, “I'd... I'd go to ground.” He explains, “I watch from the sky to see what the person's next move is then I plan accordingly. I hunt, watch and stalk my prey. I surveil. After that, I shoot. I take them down from my nest.” He looks up at her, “What do you do?” 

Natasha breathes outward, “I entice. I walk around during training missions and get information, then I break in, take down the enemies and bring back the stuff I was asked for. My last training mission had me take down a politician and bring back files. I pretend I was assistant, got in close and then took bite.” 

She stares at Clint in silence, taking in what he had told her. They had two distinct fighting styles that differed from each other greatly. How they would ever combine them was beside her. The silence stretches for a few minutes, leaving them to chow down on the Chinese food, each trying to figure out the last piece of the puzzle. Finally, as if a light switch was turned on, Natasha realized what to do. 

“We bring it together!” She says happily, jumping up from her spot on the floor. 

The new motel they decided to pick was less luxurious then the first one and both had decided not to touch the solitary bed until they were going to sleep. “What?” Clint asks, looking up from his spot across from her. “What do you mean?” 

Giving him her best look, she explains, “You watch like Hawk, I go in like Spider.” Natasha bites her lip, “You protect me and I take information. Once there we decide to bring down agency slowly.” 

“Slowly?” Clint murmurs, “But that would mean...” 

Looking down, Natasha nods, “We would have to stay with each other longer than we wanted.” 

The room gets quiet again before Clint speaks up, “I don't mind.” He says. 

“Neither do I.” She agrees smiling. 

“Then we enact our plan tomorrow?” He questions, and she nods. 

“Tomorrow we enter, take down the squad already in place and then we go after the bigger ones.” 

~*~ 

When Natasha wakes, she does so gently so she won't wake Clint from his sleep. She knew that he hadn't gone to bed when she told him to, instead he had stayed up, looking out the window. Natasha slid from the sheets before pulling the covers over Clint who slept on the sheets, instead of in. Thirteen year old boys weirds her out, she decides. They never do what you think they will. 

Quickly though, Natasha sheds the business clothes and jumps in the warm water of the shower. Their normal clothes – mission clothes as Clint calls them – will be worn; this being their first (and hopefully not last) mission together. The shower water washes the fear of today from her body, cleansing it. Natasha begins to pull herself into the mindset that the Room gave her; the calm and strong assassin. She isn't a child, she is the Black Widow; she is going to win against these agents and then she's going to go on the run with Clint and begin the true mission: operation give 'em hell! 

Smirking to herself, Natasha leaves the warmth of the shower, her long red locks sticking to her body. She has half and hour to get mission ready before she'd wake up Clint. Looking in the mirror, Natasha exams herself. Her child's body barely grown up, breast halfway full and torso a mess of half grown muscles. She doesn't look it, but she is and will always be The Black Widow. 

Natasha brushes her hair slowly, counting out to a hundred before using a scrunchy and placing the fiery locks into a tight and controlled bun at the back of her head. A few wisps gets loose but that won't catch on anything. Walking out of the bathroom with just a towel on, she makes her way to the bag with their weapons and clothing. She pushes Clint's outfit aside and grabs her Red Room made clothing; it's armor basically, made out of stolen ware but it will keep her safe. She looks over Clint's clothing, basic human wear, nothing that will protect him. 

“Hmm.” She wonders if she can get some armour for him. But where? Natasha checks her memory banks, to see if she saw anywhere that sold any form of amour. Clint may not be big enough to wear the Kevlar vests perfectly but if she can get him something then her heart won't worry as much. 

“Tasha?” She hears him mumble with sleep heavy in his voice. 

“Go back to sleep.” Natasha orders, “I'll be right back. I've got to go get something.” 

Clint jolts awake at that, blinking rapidly to find her in the dark room. The sun isn't even up and she plans to go somewhere? “Where are you going?” He asks, once he spots her. 

Natasha bites her lip before answering him, “I want to get you armour.” 

Nice gesture, Clint thinks, but totally not worth her getting caught. So he voices his worry and she shakes her head. 

“I am not going to run into them.” She says sharply, “I am trained to stay in shadows.” 

Clint sighs, he doesn't want to fight with her but he doesn't know how to tell her that he's got a bad feeling about it. Yesterday, when he stayed up looking down on the city he noticed that the black cars never stopped their searches. Each car paced down the streets over and over, thankfully never turning in the direction of the hovel they were staying in but they did get dangerously close a few times. He blinks a few times, wondering if he can explain it to her without implying that she's unable to take care of a few agents when he snaps. 

“I'm scared!” Natasha looks startled but he still continues, “We could very well be marching to our deaths right now and that doesn't add in the fact that I just lost two people very close to me and I'm getting attached to you. You are like a line that I don't want to lose. I'm willing to go without the armour but --” 

“I can not let you do that!” Natasha snaps back at him, with the same fury that he holds. Her eyes crackle alive. “I have done the same. You are important for some reason. The Room taught us that other operatives are just tools to use but in the last two days since we have met, you have grown on me.” 

Another silence settles on the room, both of them unable to say anything further. Natasha sighs at being able to let out her childish fears and Clint smiles at being able to admit that he's scared. “I am going to get you amour.” She informs, “Nothing is going to stop me.” 

Clint nods, “Be safe then, I saw the black cars yesterday about two miles out. They didn't turn down this way but they just might.” 

Natasha finishes getting ready as Clint begins his own process, putting the last bit of her outfit into place; her specialized arm bands that are little tasers. Right when she hears the shower start, Natasha knocks on the door to inform Clint of her departure. “I will meet you outside in the alley two blocks from here?” She questions, making sure he knew the plan. 

Clint affirms what she says only repeating his request for her to be safe and if getting the armour proves to be too difficult she'll turn back and forget it. She agree gently, crossing her fingers. 

Natasha climbs to the top of the motel, planning to take the rooftop way instead so she wouldn't get noticed as the street below wasn't as empty and bare as the ones back home would be at this time. The clock hadn't even hit six o'clock when they woke, sky still dark but men and women alike walked out from the building to their cars. Natasha works her way through the streets, careful to not be seen until she makes it to the hovel of a building she saw. It was some weapon's manufacturer – someone she hadn't ever heard of, but it didn't matter, while walking around yesterday, Natasha had entered pretending to be lost and asked for directions. She saw, through the door on the left side, a group of scientist working on something she wouldn't understand but it looked like an undershirt for soldiers. 

Getting in wasn't going to be hard, getting out, well, now that was another story that Natasha hasn't thought about. Natasha drops down to the third floor fire escape on the building across from the weapon's manufacturing place, looking down, she notices two security guards doing their rounds. She waits for them to turn their back before she jumps effortless across. The window easily opens and she makes sure she hasn't tripped any alarms before she opens Clint's favourite way. 

The vents. 

Slipping in, she notes that the vents are humongous and that if they make it out, she'll bring Clint by so they can take a few items from this place. They have trucks coming in and out every hour so it shouldn't be that hard. 

Finally coming across a drop zone, Natasha positions her body the right way before letting go of the walls and sliding through the vent, her feet hitting the vent opening and then she drops to the ground in a crouch like Clint had the other day. Thankfully, no one is around so no one notices her slipping in and out of the cracks and shadows. She comes across a room working on guns and she pauses, she likes guns and wants to see what they've done to improve her favourite weapon. 

“Testing!” The lead scientist yells and everyone clears off the floor before what Natasha can only guess is the tester takes his place and counts down with his hands. 

5...

4...

“...3..” 

“2.”

A large shot echoes throughout the room, shocking even Natasha who jumps slightly in the hallway. She almost lets loose a gasp as she notes the testing dummy is missing it's arm. 

“How was that sir?” The tester asks and the scientist moves towards the testing dummy, taking all the readings they could. 

“That was good.” The main scientist says, “A little messy but that was the back shot.” 

Clearly, this is not an ordinary weapons manufacturer. Still though, she's got little time for anything else as she's on a mission. The young teen sighs once more, lifting an eyebrow offhandedly then she's striding forward. The vest was on the first floor, she's on the second; the windows she pass by tells her that much. The clock in a wayward office also tells her that she's been away from Clint for 15 minutes. She had promised him to be back by 30. 

“I am hurrying.” She tells the wind, making her way to the stairway, avoiding every camera on the way. The stairway, probably less used, has no cameras, or at least none she can see, but that doesn't mean she lets down her guard. It is still dangerous, Natasha is not safe in the hotel room with Clint, no, she's out in the world without her partner. 

What would the Red Room do if they found out that after two days she's let her training get shot by a bunch of smirks and a nickname? 

They'd probably kill her. Or if she was lucky and they decide she was an important asset they'd retrain her, take away all those feelings and pack her tight with hate. They might even take Clint and make her kill him for her final training exercise – or if they were feeling especially cruel, they'd do what they'd done to her and make him an operative. 

That was worse than making her kill him. 

Shaking her head, Natasha clears her mind. She is no longer apart of the Red Room, that part of her is in the past. All she will carry from them is her name and training other than that, she wants nothing to do with them. She and Clint are partners now, and 10 years of life there means nothing. 

“So, what are you doing for the fourth?” A voice starts her out of her thoughts, causing her to jump to the ceiling and cling to the walls opposite her. Her body tight as she clenches her arms to keep her from falling, she watches the man pass by. 

The second man shrugs, “Just going to spend time with the in-laws.” He tells his companion. 

The first man laughs and says, “Aww man, I feel sorry for you!” The second man bows his head, laughing alongside his friend before he pauses. 

“Do you feel watched?” He asks, looking around the hallway. 

The first man pauses with him before shaking his head, “Nah man, you just feel like that because your every move is going to be scrutinized and judged in a few days!” 

He nods before he begins to walk again, agreeing with his friend, and getting ready for his holiday. Natasha watches them walk away, her eyes never leaving their backs until they are completely out of sight. She waits a few more seconds before she relaxes her body and jumps down. 

Walking through the white hallways, Natasha marks every important pass she makes. She doesn't want to forget anything about this place, as it might be the only weapons place she'll pass by in a while. When she makes her way to the secondary door for the bullet vest she saw, she begins to meet problems. 

“Hey!” She turns, meeting the eye of a huge security guard. “What are you doing in here?!” 

Her training jumps into action, bringing her knee up to meet the man's stomach. He punches forward but she dodges it before curling into a roll and throwing her leg out to kick the man in the shin. The guard falls to his knee crying out when Natasha jumps back to her feet and punches him hard in the face. Bull shit would he get the drop on her! 

She grabs his pass and opens the door, which slides smoothly open and runs into the room. There are shocked scientists staring at her with fear but she knows she's got to hurry. Quickly, she makes short work of the operating cameras, anything that can spot her is bad, after all the tech is down, she heads towards the first scientist. 

“Give me vest,” She demands, adding a hesitantly seductive, “Or else.” 

The man shakes in front of her, pointing towards the desk on the other side of the room, she nods at him once before lifting her left hand up and clocking him in the eye. Glaring at the others in the room, she brings a finger up to her lips as she grabs the lightweight product. 

“Will this work?” She asks right before she leaves. The only female scientists nods. 

“It should. The fibers are lightweight but are better than Kevlar itself!” She almost screeches at Natasha. “It's the best right now!” 

Natasha looks at the vest again before she nods again and jumps on the desk near the vent and she climbs in, not sparing anyone a second glance. She hears the alarm going off while she climbs up and up the silvery vents. 

“Where is she?” 

“Where'd the person go!” 

“Is everyone okay?” 

~*~ 

Clint is going insane! Natasha had promised not to take more than 30 minutes, but she didn't arrive at the drop zone and it had already been 45 minutes. She said she was going to be quick; in then out! Arghh!!! 

“Damn you!” He shouts to the wind, careful to actually not make so much sound. It wouldn't do him any good to be spotted by one of those agents. His nest was directly across from the building the group had taken up residency in and from it he had been watching all their coming and goings. Twice he notices Mr. Shades doing something like talking into his ear or ordering someone 'to bring up the rear and check the oil', whatever that means. 

“Damn who?” 

Turning violently, he glares at Natasha who's snuck up on him, carrying something black in her arms. She's got a smirk to rival his before she's speaking again, “Sorry for being late,” She at least looks sheepish here, “I was having trouble finding Clinton ave.” 

“It doesn't matter.” Clint says, moving closer to her, just to make sure that she's still there and hasn't betrayed him – his major unspoken fear – then he's continuing, “I'm watching the suits and there's something going on.” 

Natasha pulls up the goggles she has, looking over the pale building where the suits as Clint has called them, took over. There's an elevated amount of movements, thankfully from Clint's perch, no one can see them as there are people hiding on the tall roof. “What is our opening?” She asks, handing the goggles to Clint, who ignores them. 

He doesn't even squint as he looks over, “We've got two openings, one on the south side and one of the east. We have exactly twenty minutes on each side to get in and take down some things. After that, since they're alarms are really good, we'll have at least a few minutes to fuck them up and then get out.” 

“So together...” Natasha begins, “We have twenty minutes to take them out before we get caught?” 

Clint frowns and shakes his head, “No, we have twenty minutes to take them out before we get the hell out of dodge.” 

Natasha freezes. While she was walking she tried to think of places where they could go, somewhere where no one can get them but she can't, there's no where. She wants to tell Clint this, that in the end, she'll have to go back and he would forced to go somewhere. “Clint...” 

“Nat,” Clint turns to her, grinning, “I've got a mission lined up after this – always did. Swordsman wasn't like Trick Shot, didn't like to count the eggs before they were in his hand. It was never a sure thing that I would get accepted by whatever kinda group this AIM people are and he didn't want to lose any money.” 

“We have mission.” Natasha says, repeating the words, liking how they feel on her tongue and in her mouth. 

“Yup.” 

Natasha, smiling like she's only done since she got her and met Clint, drawls “Then let us take down S.H.I.E.L.D.”. 

~*~ 

Natasha has to admit that watching Clint sprint down the hallway ahead of her, taking out cameras and people is quite the sight. She enjoys watching her new partner kick ass, mainly because it feels like how it probably feels to watch her. Clint's got his own song and dance during a fight and when she's pulled away from her own fight, she can see it. 

He twists away from a man's hand before curving his body to do a ridiculous one handed handstand, then he's lashing out with his leg, bow being removed from his back somehow and then used to take down the man with a hit to the face. He beckons at her, 'hurry up, we don't have much time' is what he's saying. Natasha kicks her guy one more time, just to make sure he's not getting up before she quickly runs after him.

The control room where Clint says he's going to shut down their electronics is three floors up and four doors down. It's where they get stuck. 

There's a small army of, what they began to call SHIELD, standing outside the door, waiting for them. There isn't any vents so they're screwed basically and as already put, it's too high to jump out the windows. That's when it happens. 

“This is Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division.” A pause, “I'm going to have to ask you to put down your weapons and exit the room with your hands up.”

Clint scoffs, “Uh, no.” He looks towards Natasha who is frowning, trying to figure out how to get out. 

“If you don't my team is going to have break in.” 

“Breaking in's illegal.” Clint murmurs and she stifles a laugh because well, they broke in. She pulls on his shirt to get his attention before her eyes catch the computer's monitor. 

“Clint.” She asks gently, too low for anyone but him to hear. “Can you-?” She points to the computer, giving him an eyebrow raise when he nods. 

“Keep 'em talking.” 

Natasha stands up right when he does, following Clint to the computer area yet she talks. “So, what is SHIELD?” 

“Strategic Homeland Enforcement Intervention Logistics Division is a secret.” The man on the other side of the door says tersely. “Why don't you tell me who you are.” 

She looks back towards Clint before she decides that on missions they aren't Clint and Natasha, they are Black Widow and Hawkeye, the best duo the world will ever see. “We are Hawkeye and Black Widow.” She declares and Natasha feels regal while she says it.

There's a pause and rustling and then Clint's running back towards the door, grabbing his bow and arrows before yanking the window open. He closes his eyes and Natasha can see him go into his zone before he's pulling the string back and letting it lose. He hits the building on the dead on and then he's pulling on a string that Natasha didn't see him attach to the arrow. “Grab on.” He says before facing the door. “Agent Coulson!”

“Yes.” 

“Remember, Hawkeye and Black Widow are here to take down SHIELD, for everything you've done against us. You've got a war on your hands.” He yells before he motions for her to jump out the window, him following right after her on the same rope just a little downer. They hear the door burst open as they yip through the air. 

“Go!” They hear Coulson yell but they don't see anything but blurs. 

~*~ 

Phil Coulson had become Agent Phillip Coulson five years ago which meant six years ago, Phil thought he knew everything. Two minutes ago, he learned that he didn't. He knows for a fact that he is only brought to missions when everything is going wrong and Fury uses him as a last measure. It makes him smirk a little to himself but not today. When Fury told him to get with Agent Bryant on the mission for Hawkeye and Widow he thought it was a joke. 

47 kills between the two; Black Widow 24 kills, Hawkeye 23 kills. No ideas what either looked like; there was never any survivors to tell, and both of them in the wind. This mission was the first time they had heard anything of either of the assassins stepping on American soil without it being days old and their mission already completed. 

It wasn't until he sat down with Agent Bryant that he learned why they were hearing about it first: child trafficking. Two hours later, when Phil was by himself in the office Fury had given him in a building near where they got four people—Jacques Duquesne aka Swordsman, Buck Chrisolm aka Trick Shot, Ms. Red of the Red Room and Hayden Xavier of AIM but not a sign of Black Widow and Hawkeye – did he throw up in the waste basket. He hates child traffickers, thinks they're the sickest people but the ones they are dealing with; the type to take children, teach them to be obedient and pliant then teach them to kill, are the worse.

“Come out come out.” Coulson mutters to himself as he walks the floor where the two assassins had just walked. He knew where they were in his building, not what they looked like besides small flashes before they took out all the security cameras but that was it. Coulson's about to sigh and call in for more strike teams to head up to this floor before going upwards on the last floor when he sees it. 

The flurry of red hair that is the Black Widow. Beside her is Hawkeye, his black outfit much different from the purple one that the file talks about. 

“Strike team delta-November-Juliet, I need you circled around to the east side of the building.” Coulson requests, getting no answer in return. “Strike Team leader Sinclair, what's coordinates?” 

Sighing, Coulson taps his comm link once again, “This is papa-charlie-bravo, requesting more agents to the third floor.” 

Walking towards the door that hides the two assassins, he motions for his bullhorn to be given to him. The minute it was given to him though, he heard someone – definitely the Black Widow, the files says so – call out to him. 

“If you come any closer, I will shoot.” It's clear cut and to the point, just like ever kill that woman has made. 

“This is Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division.” He says diplomatically, he pauses before adding, “I'm going to have to ask you to put down your weapons and exit the room with your hands up.”

He hears Hawkeye scoff before saying, “Uh, no.” 

“If you don't my team is going to have to break in.” Coulson responds feeling pretty childish at the moment for some reason. It's definitely not because some high end assassin is sounding like a freaking kid arguing with him. 

Coulson hears a quiet and probably not meant for him, “Breakin' in's illegal.” before the room goes silent. They might be talking to each other, trying to figure out how to get out of the desolate room but that's impossible. Coulson made sure to plan it so the room would be too high off the ground to jump – all Intel points to either of them not being suited with anything that could help them fly – and there's no vents, pipes or anything that can be used to climb down. 

“So what is SHIELD?” He hears Black Widow ask and Coulson wants to scoff at the mispronunciation of his company's name. 

“Strategic Homeland Enforcement Intervention Logistics Division is a secret.” Coulson explains in what he hopes to be a tone that shows them he's at the end of his rope “Why don't you tell me who you are.” 

“We are Black Widow and Hawkeye.” Her tone suggest he should know that as she declares it with bravado. 

Coulson is about to respond with something deadpanned but instead he waits as he hears rustling, maybe they're going to give up? But no that's too easy, they'd never do that so it must mean they're planning something. 

“Agent Coulson!” Hawkeye yells, catching Coulson out of his reverie. 

“Yes.” He answers blandly. Not showing them that they've got his suit feathers all ruffled and he's annoyed and if they don't come out, Fury's gonna have his ass for this mess up. 

“Remember, Hawkeye and Black Widow are here to take down SHIELD, for everything you've done against us. You've got a war on your hands.” 

“Go, go, go!” He instructs the team to break the door open but it's too late and he can see the two assassin, clad in black flying through the air on what looks to be R&D's experimental strong rope. 

The rest of the agents with him watch as they whoop and holler before Coulson's directing them out to the goddamn streets because they are trying to take down the company! Get your asses on it! Dragging a hand down his face, because that's all he can do right now, Coulson thinks about how for the next twenty years of his life is going to be filled with crap jobs and probably eccentric people. 

“Fuck!” Is the only words out of his mouth in that moment and the agent working on the computer that was in the room looks at him with shock on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

~*~  
Chapter Five: The End?  
~*~ 

“So where do we go from here?” Natasha asks, pulling her wet and newly dyed brown hair up in a short ponytail. Clint stands behind her, drying off his own brown hair, his boyish blond hair gone until it's needed again. 

“We're going east.” Clint says, grabbing a map from the store vendor they just pass. “Chicago. It's gonna be easy but I've done mission for this guy before, he's good and he trust me more than he trusted any of my mentors. He works for some country I've never heard of, Latveria?” 

“I have heard of it.” Natasha says, “I have done training missions there.” 

Clint nods, “Yeah, well, once we get that pay check we can start collecting things we need; clothing, food, weapons, items like that.” 

“Clint.” Natasha mutters, “Are you scared?” She wonders because she can feel little fluttering all through her stomach. She's about to be a rogue operative of the Red Room, she's going to go work with a kid she's just met. She's placing her life in this other kid's hands and hoping he's capable. 

“Yeah,” He responds, “I mean, we met two days ago during the blood bath that is the death of our mentors and on a whim we decided we wanted to work together for a while. I'm trusting you and that's hard for me but I'm going to let you in.” 

The walk in silence, making their way to the Liberty Pole area where all the buses arrive at. They've got a bus lined up to take them to the train station a little ways away then they plan on getting on a train and heading out to Chicago, which is the last stop for the Amtrak train headed to California. Once on the bus, seated in the middle like any good kids would, Natasha spoke up. 

“I trust you.” She whispers in his ear, “Despite the Room's training, I trust you.” _Don't let me down, please._ she adds silently. 

“I won't let you down if you don't let me down.” Clint murmurs back, looking over the crowd of people. 

At the store where they bought the clothes and the hair dye, Clint saw some of the SHIELD people, not inside but outside, looking for anyone that exited that looked like them. Thankfully, they had went into the family bathroom and dyed their hairs, which surprised Clint because he didn't know that Wal-Mart allowed you to stay in a bathroom for that long. 

When they exited the Wal-Mart they weren't Clint and Natasha or Hawkeye and Black Widow; they were Aaron and Natalia Carter and they passed by Mr. Agent Coulson on there way out with a small smile. 

Thinking back on their small fight makes Clint smile so much that halfway through the bus ride to the Amtrak station, Natasha elbows him. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Our fight.” He answers, smirking and Natasha's eyes sparkle, not like the first time he saw them sparkle where they sparkled with death but with joy and happiness. “And how awesome your fighting skills are, can you teach me some of that?” 

Natasha purses her lips before nodding, “I guess.” She answers as she reaches across him to ring the bell. Clint's face heats up, she's too close to him but he doesn't say anything. If she feels comfortable enough for this than he should too. 

“Come on.” She motions for him to follow her off the bus and to the front door of the station. 

“You ready?” Clint inquires right when she pauses in her movement. They are right in front of the door, thankfully not blocking anyone but still. Natasha stays still for a moment before nodding. 

“Yes.” She murmurs more to herself than him. “I am fine.” She insists as he looks at her. 

“Then come on.” He opens the glass door for her and she struts in, head held upwards.

Natasha gets in line, while Clint goes off to wait at the other side, pretending not to know each other. She buys two tickets to Chicago, Illinois, just like Clint told her to. The train is going to be arriving in 25 minutes, there was a small accident on the tracks. She relays all this to Clint who somehow turned their walkie-talkies into ear comms. They're on a special wave length, Clint reassures her, because Jacques – the first time he's used one of his mentors' real name around her – made sure he knew how to do this. 

Natasha makes a motion for her pocket book, knowing that the rest of their money will be going into this, she's got her fake ID, the one that says she's 18, when she sees someone looking over Clint. She's just a blonde girl with no real assets besides breast but Natasha feels something stir up in her. 

Jealous. She notes. Because she doesn't want anyone near her partner. 

Right after she pays, Natasha saddles over to him, making sure that they are both out of cameras but still in the eyeline of that blonde girl. She holds onto his arm like she had early that day as they walked through the park. 

“Clint.” 

“Yeah, Tasha.” Clint says, blinking because the plan was to walk to the edge of the platform and continue on together there, not here in the terminal. 

Natasha bits her lip, ready to tell a lie when she forces herself to admit the truth, “I do not like that other girls – much older girls – are looking at you like they want to eat you. It is disgusting, please tell me that all American girls do not do this.” 

Clint laughs lightly, “Nah, not all girls, just ones with eyes.” He sees her roll her eyes before he goes on, “Plus, I'm not interested in girls right now. Puberty means nothing.” 

Which is a lie because he's notices Natasha. 

~*~ 

Their bedroom, because Natasha doesn't do small areas with crowded people, not yet, it's too soon, is just something small. Two seats during the day and two beds at night. They have access to the dining cart, which is where Clint places her after they leave their bag in their room. 

“Come on, Tasha!” he whines, “I've never had food this good!” 

And her heart aches for him because she's had more expensive dishes on training missions. Sighing, Natasha nods, not because of any other reason then she's feeling protective over her partner. 

“Teach me full English.” She demands after a minute, but the tone of her voice makes it sound more like a request. 

Clint nods, “I'd be happy too.” He stops for a minute, “I never finished school and I was raised in the circus, are you sure you want me to teach you?” 

“Of course,” She answers, a playful smile on her lips, “There is no one else I would rather do so.” 

They fall into comfortable silence once he nods his head, ducking it slightly so he hid behind the menu. She orders some chicken meal while Clint orders the steak-something when the waiter comes up and then they go back to listening to the slight buzzing of the people in the car. It's midway through their meal when Natasha asks for the lowdown on the mission they are about to go into. Clint shrugs lightly, head crooking to the side before his eyes rolls upwards, like he was thinking. 

“Umm, politician, works with Latveria usually but for some odd reason started talking to the wrong guys. Two months ago, spilt a bunch of secrets of Latveria to the CIA. My guy wants him taken out and if we do that we get our pretty paycheck.” Clint shrugs again but this time with an amused look on his face, “We have a week window though to get in and out with a flash drive that was stolen from my guys office. Says someone in the politician's office took it during a raid.” 

Natasha leans forward, “So retrieval _and_ excution.” She lets loose a low whistle, not that it would matter for no one is looking at the two teens sitting in the last booth in the left row, “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.” She says, letting her accent bleed through. 

“I like your accent.” Clint compliments before going back to the mission, “Yup. I always get missions like these because who's gonna deny a cute kid like me access anywhere?” 

“Well, what do you want; retrieval or taking the shot?” She asks, truly wanting to know his preference for she can work with either. 

Clint thinks about it for a minute, “Well, this politician might know me already, so it might be best if you go in.” He makes a face before saying, “Be cautious, sometimes these guys have dirty mouths, grabby hands and a prosititute underneath the table.” 

Natasha genuinely laughs at that because she's thought that before. Politicians are gross back home, not all of them going after younger girls or boys but just gross in the sense of always having affairs and having their hands in the honeypot. Natasha nods her understanding as he continues with the lowdown. Everything he knows is being given to her, all the information he can dredge up from previous missions for this Latveria country is being mulled through and screened so by the end of lunch, and dinner, they both know everything. 

“Top bunk or bottom?” questions Clint just as they are making their way back to the room and she shrugs. 

“Does not matter.” She answers and Clint pulls the bottom chairs together before climbing on them. He must want to look out the window and she doesn't blame him. 

“Clint.” Natasha begins, “Have you ever been to Europe?” 

“No.” 

Smirking to herself in the dark, Natasha tells him, “I have a contact. We have mission in France in three weeks. You need fake identification and passport.” 

“So, Chicago today, France in three weeks and where to after that?” 

Shrugging even though he wouldn't be able to see her, she answers, “Anywhere. We have the whole world to conquer.” 

{The End}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've hinted at Clintasha being apart of the series, it will be but when they're older, less teenagers looking for a friend who notices them more adults who realises they've fallen for their best friend. 
> 
> So Yeah ending!
> 
> Which will then lead to the next part of the series: 
> 
> Title: you only need the light when it's burning low  
> summary: It's been three years since they've been partners, running from the law, and SHIELD. Now, Clint and Natasha has to deal with the fact that sometimes the past doesn't stay buried and what you don't know, can kill you. When the Red Room comes for Natasha, she has to determine if she truly wants to be saved and if the past three years have meant anything to her.
> 
> ~~~ 
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel Characters do not belong to me, I am only borrowing them. They are returned now until next time. 
> 
> Comments are still appreciated and loved. Thank you for reading this. *takes a bow* until next time!


End file.
